


Yours

by taeminkki



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Enough to stuff a pillow I'd think, F/M, Fluff, Like seriously a lot of fluff, Or at least fill a few plushie bunnies, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminkki/pseuds/taeminkki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He takes her to a world made of stars and proves to her that she’s the only one he sees. Or, the one in which the Doctor and Rose have a picnic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours

“Go on, you’re not gonna guess it!”

The Doctor is grinning the cheeky, enigmatic smile Rose loves as he encourages her to go ahead and push open the TARDIS doors to discover just where it is he’s taken them this time. That grin is one of her many favourite things about the daft alien; how goofily pleased he becomes when he’s able to show her something he knows she’ll find awe-inspiring and splendid. Typically it’s soon followed by Rose’s jaw falling open unceremoniously as she wanders whatever beautiful distant planet he’s brought her to, the Doctor rattling off a million and one facts in her wake with something akin to childlike glee evident on his face.

“All right, all right,” she laughs in surrender at his insistent hands shoving her in the direction of the doors. “But I’m telling you, if we’re anywhere _near_ Portheux 4 again, I swear I’ll--”

Her sentence sticks in her throat when she finally steps outside the phone box.

It appears to be nearing dusk on this particular planet, from what Rose can tell, but the sky is a warm liquid topaz that just shows the beginnings of darkening on one side of the horizon. She appears to be in some sort of meadow, she thinks. Pale lavender grass tickles her ankles as it sways in a warm breeze, yet snow-capped mountains shine silver like iridescent jewels in the distance. The field is ringed by tall trees dripped with leaves that give the appearance of molten gold.

It’s _beautiful._

Rose is vaguely aware of the Doctor exiting the TARDIS behind her and making a sound of approval at apparently having landed where he had planned (for once).

“Ah ha! Good,” he sniffs. “Well Rose, welcome to the planet Asteria, named for the goddess of falling stars, population 15 billion and nestled quite snugly in the system Centauri V. We’re currently standing in somewhat of a national park, but don’t worry it’s perfectly alright for us to be here as long as we don’t touch any of the wildlife or drink the water…”

Rose finds the Doctor’s voice is beginning to fade into white noise in her head as he rambles, and that might explain why he seems momentarily disgruntled when she cuts across him.

“And what exactly are we doing here?” she asks suddenly in a curious tone. There doesn’t seem to be any sign of people in trouble, no alarm bells or screaming, in fact the whole place is near silent if not for the whispering breeze and what sounds like it could be a small brook in the distance.

“Well I- erm, I thought we might… might have a picnic, perhaps.”

Rose blinks. That hadn’t been what she was expecting, but when she turns around she finds the Doctor leaning overly casually against the TARDIS and indeed carrying a large wicker basket and running a hand through his already crazily mussed hair. His face seems a little inexplicably flushed, but she chooses not to point it out for the sake of spoiling the moment.

“Seriously?” she asks, her face breaking into a grin. “No monsters to chase, chemical explosions to contain, no alien invasions or planets being stolen out of the sky?” The Doctor’s eyes sparkle with mirth now also.

“Would you prefer that?” he questions her, cocking an eyebrow, and something in the back of Rose’s brain can’t help but find the action a little sexy. Along with pretty much everything else he ever does, really.

“Are you suggesting I _enjoy_ people being in trouble?” she responds to the question, acting scandalized. “Doctor, I _never_.” He chuckles a little before stepping out onto the lavender grass and approaching her with the basket.

“Good. So… so you want to, then?” he confirms, looking down at her with what almost seem like nervous eyes. She reaches out and entwines her fingers with his, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“I think it’s a _brilliant_ idea,” she assures him softly, and his face breaks out in a relieved smile that makes her heart stutter just a bit.

“Then allons-y, Rose Tyler,” he grins, tightening his grip on her hand. “We’ve got a mountain of food to eat, and so very little time to do it!” And with that, he takes off for the middle of the field, pulling a very loudly giggling pink and yellow human behind him.

 

* * *

 

Later, they lie side by side with full bellies and content smiles, staring up at the sky as it loses its last rays of light. The Doctor’s jacket is spread beneath them, reminding Rose of a time so very long ago when they’d done just the same on New Earth, her first trip with this version of him. She’d still felt a prickle of unease back then at his unfamiliar face, but now she feels more comforted than she ever has before, because he’s so very much _her_ Doctor, and just his warmth and presence beside her is enough to make all her tension seemingly melt away.

Rose sighs contentedly as she fingers tendrils of grass, soft like down against her skin.

“This is wonderful, Doctor,” she admits quietly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the aliens and the chasing and action too but this… this is nice.” He turns his head to face her and she smiles warmly at him, hoping that her expression will adequately convey her appreciation.

“I’m glad,” he responds softly, his thumb idly tracing circles on the skin of her inner wrist. The hairs on Rose’s arm stand on end at the wondrous feeling of the Doctor touching her, and she prays he doesn’t notice. “We’ve just been doing so much of that lately, I…” he continues, “I just thought you deserved a night off, is all.”

“Yeah,” she says absently, because all of a sudden she’s hyper-aware of just how close their faces really are once turned toward each other on the ground. If Rose wanted to kiss him, she’d barely have to move her head at all, she realizes, and the Doctor’s breath fans over her, warm and sweet and dark and so very, very tempting. Her eyes inadvertently flicker to his mouth and travel back upward, and she nearly flinches at whatever emotion it is she finds in his gaze. The Doctor’s lips part slowly, and Rose attempts to ignore the part of her mind that’s screaming at her to lean forward and take the lower one between her teeth.

If she wanted to kiss him, she could.

It would be so unbelievably easy.

Rose _really_ wants to kiss him.

She musters up all her strength and wrenches her eyes from his to stare up at the sky again, attempting to regulate her breathing.

“You picked a hell of a place for it,” she says, struggling to keep her voice even. The Doctor hurriedly clears his throat and follows her gaze.

“You haven’t seen the beginning of it yet,” he says, excitement tinting his voice once more. “It’s said that Asteria is the best vantage point in the universe, that you can see more stars from its surface than you can from anywhere else in creation, and clearer and brighter too.” There it is again, the childlike wonder in his tone. Rose turns her head to look at him again and finds him staring up at the sky wide-eyed and in awe. The sight is so incredibly endearing that she has to restrain herself from launching herself at him then and there.

Instead, Rose settles for shifting closer and curling into the Doctor’s side, using the hollow between his neck and shoulder as a pillow. The time lord responds immediately by wrapping his arm around her and clutching her to him, and then Rose’s heart is racing again.

“Are you cold?” he murmurs into her hair, running his hand up and down her arm.

“No,” she whispers honestly in reply.

His palm stops in its efforts to warm her up and comes to a careful rest on her waist, fingers curled around the dip in her side. It’s like the spot on her body was engineered perfectly to fit the Doctor’s hand, Rose muses, before shaking the thought from her mind.

“Look, here they are,” the Doctor mumbles, and he’s right. One by one the stars are coming out, flickering and shining and filling up the sky with more of them than Rose has ever seen before. They’re so clear and bright and impossibly _there_ that she almost feels as if she could reach out and touch them, diamonds sparkling against a vast black blanket.

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” Rose breathes. The Doctor murmurs something that sounds like agreement and she realizes that at some point he’s stopped watching the sky and turned to watch her watch it. But she refuses to meet his gaze as her next words tumble out.

“Sometimes I just can’t believe that out of all the people in the universe, you picked me to travel with,” Rose admits suddenly. “I mean there’s so many beautiful and wonderful beings out there and it’s _me_ that gets to experience all… _this,_ ” she gestures to their incredible surroundings. The Doctor’s hand tightens on her waist and she almost doesn’t continue. “Me! The exceptionally ordinary little shop girl from London, Earth.”

The Doctor noses her hair and she shivers, finding that the hem of her shirt has ridden up slightly and three of the Doctor’s fingers are now curled tightly around her bare skin.

“There’s no one in this universe I’d rather it be,” he says quietly, seriously. “Or the next universe, or the one after that.” She feels him press his lips softly to the crown of her head and she inhales sharply. “And trust me, Rose, you are _anything_ but ordinary.”

His sentiments are so wonderfully unexpected that she finally turns to meet the Doctor’s gaze to find his eyes sparkling with some kind of emotion she can’t even begin to interpret.

And it’s then that Rose finds absolutely no reason to postpone the inevitable anymore, leaning that tiny bit forward and brushing her lips against his, feather-light.

The Doctor tenses against her, his body going rigid, and she worries she’s made the wrong decision and screwed everything up between them, before he smashes his mouth against hers once more and Rose squeaks softly at the contact. The Doctor chuckles low in his chest as his lips move against hers, and when his tongue swipes at the seam of her mouth she more than happily obliges him, parting her lips to taste his tongue with hers and moaning at the feeling of their breaths mingling together.

Rose needs more of him, more of the Doctor, _her_ Doctor, because this is incredible but it’s just not enough. Her hands fist in the lapels of his suit jacket and draw him closer, while both his arms fall to wrap round her waist and stroke at the skin of her back and oh _god, why had they not done this before?_ He’s clutching her flush against his body, every part of them touching and fitting together in the cliché way of jigsaw pieces.

All of a sudden, Rose makes a surprised sound in the back of her throat as the Doctor rolls them over, off his jacket and into the soft lavender grass. Their lips break apart for air and then they’re panting in each other’s faces, eyes searching one another’s. The Doctor hovers above her, his body pressing hers into the ground, all lean lines and tight muscle, hips against hers, and Rose tries to catalogue the feeling, to memorize the way it would feel for the Doctor’s body to push her gently down into soft sheets, before he inevitably decided this was a bad idea and elected to pretend it had never happened.

Rose reaches between them to touch her thumb to his bottom lip, and he draws the backs of his fingers shakily along her cheekbone in return.

“You’re not gonna regret this, right?” she asks softly.

“Never,” he responds, leaning down to take her full lips between his again. The Doctor peppers her face with chaste kisses, and with each one her heart flutters. “Not you. Never you. Wanted this for a long time, I have,” he hums, nuzzling her neck with his nose.

She smiles at the answer before her eyes lock onto something behind him.

“Doctor look, a star’s falling!” she says excitedly. “Gotta make a wish now, don’t you?”

“You. Forever,” the Doctor responds simply, and without hesitation.

Rose’s breath catches.

“Y-you’re not supposed to tell anyone what you wish for,” she stammers slightly. He chuckles.

“Then how’s it supposed to come true?”

She lets him have that, conceding his point. But her pulse is still fluttering in her wrist and her blood is still rushing in her veins and the Doctor is still holding her, just like she’d always wished that he would.

“Forever… that’s an awfully long time,” she says. “What about when I get old and wrinkled?”

He laughs a little, then, a short burst of humor at something she as of yet fails to see.

“Rose Tyler,” he smiles, looking down at her. “I fell in love with your mind and your soul, and no matter how much you age, that’ll never change.”

And that’s definitely the moment when Rose swears her heart stops for real.

“You… you l-love me?” she questions back. This is all too incredible to be true. Rose feels as if at any moment she’ll wake up in her bed on the TARDIS and find the whole thing had in fact never come to pass.

“’Course I do. Be mad not to,” he replies with a smirk, and she can’t help but let a smile of her own spread across her face.

“Good, because I love you too, you stupid alien,” she grins before kissing him again.

For a long time, they don’t move from their spot except for the Doctor to roll off of her and lie beside her in the grass, their bodies facing one another as he draws purposeful circular patterns on her side with his fingers and they kiss lazily. It’s only when Rose begins drifting off contentedly against him that they utter the words that will stay with him til the very day he runs out of regenerations.

“My Rose,” he murmurs softly, molding her wonderfully soft, warm body to his. “Mine.”

“Your Rose,” she confirms in a sleepy whisper. “My Doctor?” she breathes, the end lilting like a question.

The Doctor takes Rose’s hand and places it gently over his hearts, beating hard and strong in his chest.

“Yours.”

 

* * *

 

**Note: If you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving me a comment on the way out! It would be much appreciated. :3**


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